A Little Valentine's TLC
by Cr1mson5
Summary: Every year, he sent one to her, but she never knew what it meant, and every year, it was all he could do to hold the pieces of his broken heart together. Set before Stephanie, Conner, and Bart's returns


I have a love/hate relationship with Valentine's Day. Imagine that.

The day's always kind of been bittersweet for me. Firstly, it's always the day I go to visit my parents, which I don't really get to do all that much anymore. It's also always the day I go buy flowers for Stephanie and chat a little bit with Conner and Bart. Yes, I know they're all dead. I go visit their graves, just to run my hands over the engraved letters, the tombstones, just to remind myself. I don't ever want to let their memories fade, and if I go see them on Valentine's Day, the celebration of great relationships, I won't forget them. But, despite all the grief that it can bring to me, I love Valentine's Day, because I love walking around and seeing people forgetting their troubles, their worries, and just enjoying being with each other for one fleeting day. The smiles on their faces, the looks in their eyes, it never gets old. But what does get old is wishing that I could share that joy and that feeling, and knowing I probably never will.

I see her every weekend at Titans Tower. I'll catch her eye, give her a smile. I hope she knows that, behind the mask, my eyes are smiling, too, because they're looking at her. She'll smile back, awkwardly, uncertain. And then she'll turn away, perplexed a bit. I understand it, of course. I don't usually smile. But I try, for her sake. I try to be happy, to be uplifting. In short, I try to be my old self, but I don't think I can go back to what I used to be. I try, though, for her.

It's no secret that Cassie Sandsmark—Wonder Girl—is beautiful, but that's not why I love her. I love her because she's strong, and strong-willed, and she'll do anything to make sure her teammates and friends and loved ones are safe. She knows what's right, and she pursues it with her whole heart, mind, and strength. And I've never told her, but I admire her for that. I wish that I could be like her, so kind but so commanding at the same time, such a good and brave soul. But I know I'm not like that, and I never could be. So, I have to settle for trying.

But that's the problem with me trying. I never seem to try hard enough to succeed, on anything.

I keep trying to get Cassie to see how much I care about her. I have been for a long time. Every year, at Valentine's Day, I send her a TLC letter. Well, I call it a letter, but it's just a little painting. I'm not very good at it, but at least you can tell what it's supposed to be. "TLC" is always incorporated into it somewhere, whether it's in the waves on an ocean sunset or in the trees of a jungle scene. It's always someplace in the picture.

Do you know why? That's right. TLC stands for three words:

Tim.

Loves.

Cassie.

I send one off to her every year. I ship it in an envelope, so I won't have to give it to her personally. Every year, she gets her TLC letter in the mail, and I know, because they're all hanging up in her room in the tower. But every year, she puzzles over who's sending her "tender loving care" paintings. Tender loving care…

And then I'm left to think, yet again, that she hasn't understood. She hasn't gotten the message, hasn't put the pieces together. Whatever you want to call it, she doesn't know about how I feel. "Tim Loves Cassie" never crosses her mind.

I really don't know why I hope that, someday, she'll understand. She hasn't yet, and it doesn't look like she ever will. But, for whatever reason, some little part of me holds onto the notion that this year might be the year she finally realizes what you're trying to say, but aren't ready to say face-to-face yet. This might be it, this might be the moment, and all you have to do is just sit there and wait for her to announce, as usual, that she got another TLC letter, but that now she knows who it's from. But, no, every year that hope is dashed. Every year, it's the same old thing. "I got another one again this year. I wonder who it is…"

And so, it's with a heavy heart that I sit down to paint yet another picture for Cassie the Thursday before Valentine's Day. I pop the lids off my half-empty containers of watercolor paints and just sit for the longest time at my easel, wondering what to paint her. Then, I remember what she said last Saturday, when it rained in San Francisco. "Oh, I love the rain. It's so pretty."

"_I love the rain"…that's it!_

I don't think as I paint. I don't try to control the brushstrokes, the motions of my hand across the paper. I just let it go freely, watching but seeing nothing. Before I know it, I'm setting down my brush and examining a brand-new painting of a blood-red rose in the midst of a rainstorm, "TLC" written in cursive in the corner. I'm getting better at this. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think it looks beautiful. I just hope she will, too.

The next day, when it's dry, I mail it off to the same old address. Caught in a moment of emotion, I kiss the envelope before I shut it in the mailbox. The mailman comes at 3:42 and takes it away, taking it to be shipped to Cassie.

It's stupid, but a part of me worries that it won't get to her on time. If it's late, the significance it has to the holiday will be lost. Or, worse, she might forget about it. She might chalk it up to "the secret admirer forgot to send one this year" and let it go. Or she might even be disappointed that it's not punctual. I don't know which is more likely to occur, but whatever way you take it, it hinders the chance of her finally understanding and knowing who sent it and why. I want so badly for her to understand, if for only a moment, how much I want her, how in love I am with her…

Some might ask if it's just a crush, but I don't believe it is. I know her too well, and the more I learn things about her, the more I realize that there's really nothing about her I _don't _like, not even her flaws. She's just…she's too perfect—too perfect for _me_—for this to be a crush, you know?

That weekend, Valentine's Day weekend, I arrive at the tower and see the girls huddling around Cassie. They all murmur about how lovely "it" is, how they wish they were lucky enough to have one. Even Rose is awestruck at whatever they're looking at. I let a little half-smile turn up one corner of my mouth as I realize that Cassie must've gotten her picture after all. My footsteps echo through the spacious halls, and I instinctively make my face go blank as the girls turn to look up at me.

"Tim, come and see this!" Cassie calls out.

"It's incredible," Kara adds, and Megan and Rose nod their agreement.

I cooperate and come over, and, sure enough, Cassie holds out my picture to me. I take it gently from her in my hands, tilting it just slightly so that the light catches it in just the right way to make it look even better than it probably would otherwise. "Oh, wow," I say. "That _is _incredible. I like the rain in the background. It looks cool." She doesn't say anything, just nods, as if she's still in shock at how this one turned out. I purse my lips for a moment, frustrated that she hasn't figured it out yet, but I wipe the expression off my face almost as soon as it appears and continue, pointing out the letters, "What's that mean?"

Cassie cocks her head in mild interest, as if she's just noticed them (even though they're written in a visibly lighter shade of gray than the rainfall). "Um…" She angles the picture back towards herself, so she can see it better. She studies the writing for just a moment, and I think there might be a flicker of recognition, of _understanding_, in her eyes. I can feel the hope rising up in my chest, spilling from my heart. _Maybe she finally knows it's me._

"I don't know," she replies after a pause, shaking her head. "I always thought it stood for 'tender loving care', but I'm not sure. I wish I knew who keeps sending these so I could ask them."

The pain that erupts inside me is overwhelming, so much so that I can't think straight through it. I feed Cassie some lame excuse about needing to do something or other in my room, and the next thing I know, I'm slumped against the far wall of my bedroom, hot tears streaming down my face.

_She didn't see it, _I think. _She didn't get it. She doesn't know._

It's the familiar heartbreak all over again, but it hurts so much more each time that I have to go through it. Some part of me questions why I even bothered this year. I mean, obviously, she's never going to think about what those three letters really mean in the eyes of the painter. She's never going to return your feelings. So why worry about it? Why not find somebody who feels the same way about you that you do them? Why not go and find a girl who loves you so you can be happy?

I know why. It's because I'm not going to be happy with any girl other than Cassandra Sandsmark.

Crying about it won't make her see how much I adore her, won't fix things for me. But I do it anyway. I sit against the wall and let it all out, just for the sake of getting it off my chest. Cassie truly has no idea. She has no idea, the power she's got, beyond her strength, her flight, or her lasso, beyond her Wonder Girl identity. She has the power to hypnotize with a glance, to seem like a goddess among her people, and she practically is. She has the power to use her gifts to make others do whatever she wants them to do, to be a leader, to take command…and she has the power to put a hapless mortal under her spell without the slightest effort. But, through all that, she has one other, much more devastating power: she can totally shatter an already broken heart with one simple three-word sentence of "I don't know."

How did I let her do this to me? How did I fall into her trap and let her talk me into loving her? I have no idea now. But the worst part of it is…the worst part of it is that I don't really wish I didn't love her, because I can't imagine this going any other way.

As I get up off the floor shakily and go the window, I think that, sometimes, suffering is a medicine. It's a necessary part of life that can cleanse and prepare you for things to come. Maybe this is just getting me ready for something worse.

I have a love/hate relationship with Valentine's Day. I frown out at the ocean as this becomes more apparent to me once again. Perhaps it's just the way I'm wired, and I can't help but have bad experiences with it. Maybe I'm not meant for love, for a relationship, for a girl like Cassie Sandsmark, the girl who had me mesmerized from day one, I think. Whatever the cause may be, it's a sign that nothing has changed. This is just another Valentine's Day spent alone, another wasted effort at a revelation of my affections for her.

The TLC letter will go up on her wall, just like the rest. And maybe, someday, long after I've left this tower for good and settled down, she'll look at it and realize what it really was. She might be sad that she gave up the chance, she might be glad she didn't take it, she might feel sorry for me, or she might just be indifferent. That'll be up to her. But when that day comes, I'll know. Because, somewhere, far off, I will be waiting. I will be attentive. And when that shift in the atmosphere comes, when the world changes, I won't try to hide my smile.

_I'll be waiting for you, Cassie. Someday, you'll understand. Someday…_


End file.
